


Revelations

by ConsultingStag



Category: Stormlight Archive - Brandon Sanderson
Genre: Adolin is in denial, I'm so weak for my two boys, M/M, Masturbation, Slow Build, friends to lovers kind of I guess, just can't keep my hands off the smut, perhaps, spoilers for WOK and WOR, they can be such idiots, though I want to smack them half the time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-02-22 14:41:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13169070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConsultingStag/pseuds/ConsultingStag
Summary: Adolin was about to get up and get help when Kaladin suddenly inhaled sharply. Adolin froze in an awkward position, halfway between crouching and standing.The bridgeboy was glowing.Stormfather! The man was emitting stormlight, it leaked from his skin like some sort of mist. Wisps of it curled in the air before disappearing. Even Kaladin’s eyes glowed with it. He was like a cracked Shard, leaking stormlight that couldn’t be contained.Set in WoR some time after the Assassin in White appeared before Kaladin and the Kholins, but before Kaladin figures out who helped cut the balcony or Shallan appears.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for WoK and WoR.  
> Please don't take the plot that sets things in motion too serious, I mostly just needed an excuse for this scenario. This won't turn into some whodunit. Probably. Same goes for the rating, I don't know yet how naked they are gonna get with each other or handsy But I want them very naked and handsy. *coughs*  
> Anyway, set your expectations low. This trash will appear better that way ^^  
> Also, if someone wants to beta this fic or finds any mistakes in the text please do tell. English isn't my first language and I always worry about mistakes.  
> Enough said! Enjoy!

Acting in accordance with his duties as a quasi-bodyguard and responsible for the safety of the person under his care, Kaladin wouldn’t let is personal feelings interfere with his task. He was as diligent and serious as ever. Even if, now, the person under his protection was a spoiled and insufferable princeling who drove Kaladin to the brink of madness daily. The storming man seemed to enjoy taking every opportunity he found to torment, annoy, or try to embarrass Kaladin.

Even if Kaladin wanted to kick the arrogant princeling’s arse, he would still do his utmost to prevent others from doing so. He glanced at Adolin who was leaning against the wall, watching Kaladin search the surprisingly spartan room for any threats, face a weird mix of annoyance and amusement. Storming man. Kaladin ignored him, concentrating on finding anything out of place.

“How long is this going to take, bridgeboy?” Adolin didn’t know if he should be exasperated or entertained by the spectacle he was watching. There was commendable cautiousness in a guard and then there was this…paranoid distrustfulness this storming man displayed. Admittedly, there had been a failed attempt to harm Adolin a few days ago. The main goal seemed to have been to injure and incapacitate instead of killing him and he couldn’t help but think that it had something to do with his next duel. The stakes were high. The prize of Shardblade and plate was serious, hundreds and thousands of people often died over Shards. To have them change hands just like that, with a simple duel, could change the future of a house. He wouldn’t be surprised if his opponent’s family decided to make sure the duel wouldn’t take place in the foreseeable future in fear of losing their Shards.

“However long I need to make sure you’re still going to be alive come next morning, unless the building collapses on top of you, princeling.” Adolin hadn’t expected such a long reply. Usually the bridgeboy would try and prove that grunting was an acceptable form of answer. And to Adolin’s slight horror that was beginning to work. By now Adolin could interpret quite a number of grunts, far more than he was comfortable with. When had he even spoken enough with Kaladin for that to happen?

He watched as the bridgeboy inspected and examined everything. Even the space under his bed. Storms! The space was perhaps large enough to hide a skeleton but definitely not enough for a living, breathing human being. Adolin shook his head.

Just as Adolin thought Kaladin had finally finished taking his room apart and he would be able to relax in peace the man stopped and turned towards his goblet and the jug of wine, placed on a small table next to a comfortable armchair. It had taken Adolin a long time to convince his father that yes, Adolin needed an armchair and no, a normal cloth-covered chair would not be sufficient.

“Going to take a drink on the job, bridgeboy?” Adolin mocked, though he knew perfectly well that Kaladin would never do something like that. Being insubordinate on a daily basis, yes. Slacking off while doing his duties? It was about as likely as his father suddenly deciding to get drunk in broad daylight after following the codes so closely these last few years.

“Something does not smell right.”

“Probably smelling yourself. When was the last time you washed? Last week’s Highstorm?” Adolin scoffed but started to move away from the wall because if Kaladin said something wasn’t right he usually had a reason for it.

“Storm off, princeling. I think someone poisoned your wine,” he lifted the jug containing the wine and sniffed at the content before setting it down again, frown deepening. Then he picked up the empty goblet but let it drop immediately, cursing loudly and face paling visibly. The goblet clattered to the ground, the noise of metal hitting the floor dampened by a thin carpet covering the stone.

“What’s wrong?!”, alarmed, Adolin rushed forward, stretching his hand out automatically, ready to summon his Shardblade. Though what good it would do, Adolin didn’t know. Seeing Kaladin stagger, Adolin put his hand to better use, steadying the bridgeboy instead. His heart was thumping loudly, a fast rhythm that reminded him of the battle field. Except that on the battle field he knew what to do. Shaking with adrenalin and starting to panic slightly, Adolin helped Kaladin lay down on the floor. Were you supposed to do that with someone who had probably been poisoned? Would it allow the poison to circulate faster through the bloodstream? Adolin didn’t know. He took Kaladin’s hand in his, the hand that had picked up the goblet, turning it around and inspecting the palm. It was not difficult to see. There was a slightly swollen red dot in the space between thumb and index finger, like a small insect bite.

Adolin took a glance at Kaladin’s face. His scarred forehead glistened with cold sweat, breathing ragged. Adolin was about to get up and get help when Kaladin suddenly inhaled sharply. Adolin froze in an awkward position, halfway between crouching and standing.

The bridgeboy was glowing.

Stormfather! The man was emitting stormlight, it leaked from his skin like some sort of mist. Wisps of it curled in the air before disappearing. Even Kaladin’s eyes glowed with it. He was like a cracked Shard, leaking stormlight that couldn’t be contained.

Dumbfounded, Adolin stared at Kaladin’s mouth that also leaked stormlight as it moved. It seemed like Kaladin was saying something but Adolin’s brain couldn’t grasp the words.

Kaladin was just like the assassin when he came to kill his father. That thought was enough to spur Adolin into action. He jumped up, hand outstretching once more to summon his Shardblade.

Before he could take a few steps back to widen the distance between himself and Kaladin his arm was grabbed and he was dragged onto the ground with a surprising strength. He stumbled, trying to steady himself before crashing half across the bridgeboy with a dull uff-sound, smacking his face on Kaladin’s shoulder. His nose hurt something fierce and a yellow pain-spren came out of the ground next to his head, wriggling its tiny tendrils in his direction.

“Storms, Adolin, wait!” Kaladin shout sounded frustrated as Adolin struggled, trying to remove his hand from the floor. It seemed to be stuck to the ground next to Adolin’s head. His other hand was still free though so Adolin formed a fist and drove it in Kaladin’s face, feeling rather satisfied when he felt it connect with a nose. A pained grunt escaped the glowing bastard’s mouth.

“I said wait, dammit!” Adolin’s other hand was grabbed and stuck to the ground as well, rendering him mostly incapacitated and limiting his actions even further. Adolin unbend his arms, which caged Kaladin’s body at a slightly awkward angle and seemed to mockingly remind Adolin that he never managed to court a girl long enough to get into a position like that.

Great, not only was he incapacitated but also forced to stay in this embarrassing pose. At least he wasn’t forced to straddle to man’s legs. Adolin grimaced at the thought. Not the problem he should be focusing on at the moment.

Adolin glowered, baring his teeth in anger at the bridgeboy and his own inability to do anything about the situation he was in. “Why are you glowing like the Assassin in White? I swear I’m going to kill you, if you have anything to do with the people that threaten my family!” Adolin wondered if he should try shouting for help but quickly dismissed the thought. The first people to arrive would be from Bridge Four and he had no doubt that they would be absolutely loyal to Kaladin. 

Kaladin widened his eyes in surprise, at the accusation or being found, Adolin didn’t know. “Does it even matter if I swear that I have nothing to do with the people that tried to kill your father and the king? Or that I have nothing to do with the Assassin in White and am doing what I can to protect Dalinar and your family from any danger? Because I am.” Kaladin stared up at Adolin, his hard features softened slightly by the faint glow his skin was emitting, though he was still frowning. The bridgeboy probably even frowned while sleeping. Adolin was almost certain of it.

It was true that thee bridgeboy was always overly careful in that paranoid way of his. The thorough search off Adolin’s room not moments ago being prove of that. Without Kaladin, he and his father would have long since died on the Shattered Plains, naïve victims of Sadeas’ betrayal. If Kaladin had any connections with the people that command the Assassin in White it would’ve been too easy to simply let them perish at the hands of the Parshendi. Or not come to their aid when the assassin attacked them after the Highstorm. If Kaladin hadn’t pushed the assassin along with himself out of the hole in the stonewall Adolin had no doubt they would’ve died that day. He had been so utterly useless confronted with the assassin he might as well have been an untrained kid going against a champion. It made him angry and frustrated to think about that awful truth. But there was no point lying to himself about it. Perhaps if he had known and believed the talk about the abilities of the Assassin in White instead of thinking of them only as rumors. Even then, believing rumors about the powers of an opponent and knowing how to fight someone were two very different things.

“I believe that you had nothing to do with the attempt on my father’s or the king’s life.” Adolin frowned, “However, you did not do your best to protect my father’s life. You could have used the same powers as the assassin, maybe we could have beaten him.”

Kaladin glanced away as if feeling guilty. Well, he should feel bad about withholding important information like that, Adolin thought grimly.

“I can’t use my powers like the Assassin in White. Until I saw what he could do I had no idea things like that were possible myself. I’m getting better at controlling them though, I won’t be as helpless again.” Kaladin locked eye with him again, looking determined and Adolin suddenly remembered how close they were.

“So, you did use your full powers that day?” Adolin inquired.

Kaladin bit his lip, closing his eyes for a second before answering. “No.” He breathed the word out, looking guilty again. It sounded too soft for that kind of revelation and yet, at the same time too loud in the quiet of the room. Fury erupted in Adolin, hitting him like a bolt of lightning. He tried to ball his hands into fists, growling when he found he could not do that because his hands were infuriatingly still stuck to the ground.


	2. Chapter 2

“Why didn’t you?” Adolin ground out between clenched teeth. He really wanted to drive his fist into Kaladin’s nose again. Would he have used his full strength if Dalinar had been close to death with no real chance of turning the fight into his favour? But hadn’t that been the case all along? His father’s survival had been as much luck as skill. That and the fact that the assassin hadn’t seen them as threats and not used his full strength. Adolin didn’t want to think about what would have happened if the Assassin in White had attacked them using his full strength, but the ‘what if’s’ were like a loud noise in a cave, echoing for ours whenever he thought about it. He doubted he or his father would still be here in that case. He had been helplessly stuck onto the ceiling. He wondered what would’ve been worse, having to watch his father die, unable to help, or knowing Dalinar had to watch is son die at the hands of the man that already robbed him of his brother.

Adolin’s fury was matched by a determination to do anything to prevent a catastrophe like that from happening, should the Assassin in White return.

He could see Kaladin’s adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, he opened his mouth and closed it again without speaking. Adolin’s scow deepened.

“I am afraid of people finding out about what I can do.”

“So afraid that you couldn’t do your job, what you promised to do, to the best of your abilities?! You might have saved our lives by pushing the assassin along with yourself out the window but if my father hadn’t caught the blade beforehand, instead of letting it split his skull in half there would be nothing left for you to protect because you chose to hide your abilities!” Adolin knew he was raising his voice and possibly alerting any nearby guards or servants but he couldn’t care about that at the moment. He couldn’t care about anything else over the seething anger making his head pound in rhythm with his heart.

Kaladin opened his mouth as if to reply. Probably to deny that he wouldn’t have let Dalinar die, but Adolin didn’t let him speak.

“I don’t care whether or not you want people to know, but you should have told my father about it. You say you won’t be as helpless again should the assassin return? But if you can’t bring yourself to trust my father with this,” Adolin wanted to gesticulate at Kaladin’s now slightly less glowing form and perhaps punch him again for good measure but found his hands still firmly stuck to the ground. “If you can’t bring yourself to tell my father about it, how can I believe you when you say you’ll do your best to protect him?”

“I want to trust him, I want to trust and believe in Dalinar fully, but I can’t let believe and hope guide me. Not again.” For the first time since Adolin met the storming man, Kaladin seemed his age. Younger than Adolin. A young man with brands on his forehead that were put there against his choice. Scarred by the cruelty and corruption of the world. He seemed fragile. It made Adolin feel uncomfortable. His anger was sniffed out like a candle in a Highstorm and he cleared his throat in a useless attempt to dispel some of that uneasiness.

“My father sacrificed his Shardblade for you and your men, he made you a captain! What more do you expect him to do?” He wished the glow around Kaladin’s body was stronger so he didn’t have to see the pain in his face or so he could pretend it was an illusion cast by the Stormlight. He was glad when a glimmer of anger emerged onto the bridgeboy’s face at his words.

“You lighteyes have taken everything from me! This,” Kaladin gestured towards his chest, “is the only thing I have left. I can’t let it be taken as well! I can’t stomach another betrayal.”

“My father won’t betray you!” Now that he no longer wanted to choke the life out of the storming man, he felt exasperated at Kaladin’s words. Dalinar was very likely the most honourable man in all of Alethkar. How could the bridgeboy not trust him after what his father had sacrificed to Sadeas after the betrayal? What man would’ve given a Shard to his enemy?

When he finally spoke, Kaladin’s voice sounded raw, as if he had a hard time saying the words aloud.

“I told Dalinar something.  I was convinced to trust him with something that happened. But he didn’t want to know about it. Didn’t want to hear anything bad about another lighteyes. It was my mistake. I was well aware they knew each other. I knew they were friends. I should really know better by now.” Kaladin’s bitter smile looked more like a wavering grimace.

Adolin wanted to deny it. Wanted to stand up for his father. But he couldn’t do so with a clear conscience. Would his father believe a darkeyes that saved his life; a person he promoted to captain without knowing him for even a month or a friend of the same rank, a friend Dalinar had known for far longer? Adolin knew what the answer would be for himself.

He didn’t know what he could possibly say to that. Accuse the birdgeboy of lying? No, this was probably the longest they had ever talked and Adolin felt like Kaladin was telling the truth. Or at least what he felt was the truth. Adolin wasn’t willing to just blindly trust whatever he said. He wanted to ask what the bridgeboy had told Dalinar but it would be a useless question. They didn’t like each other, let alone trust, so what reason should Kaladin have to tell Adolin about it? He probably already regretted saying what he did. Maybe Adolin could somehow ask his father about it without appearing too suspicious

Adolin closed his eyes for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. He sighed. His evening was supposed to be him relaxing with a glass of yellow wine, not have an emotionally exhausting conversation with the bridgeboy while nearly straddling him.

“Alright. Let’s just assume you had a good reason not to tell anyone about it, not even my father. Or do the best you could,” Adolin took a steadying breath because that part was what bothered him the most and was almost enough to send him tumbling into another rage. “Even though the Stormfather knows how irresponsible that was! What now? I know what you can do.” The bridgeboy’s expression turned a mix between worried and angry and Adolin hastened to add, “I’m not going to tell my father or anyone, unless you give agree or give me reason to. But, I have conditions. I want you to tell and show me everything you can do and know. And I want you to train with me. If the Assassin in White returns or someone else with powers like that comes along I need to be able to fight.”

Kaladin was the perfect training resource for this. And the only real solution for Adolin to learn how to fight against people with the power of Stormlight. He couldn’t risk Kaladin running away or something like that if he told his father about what he found out. There was no doubt that, if Kaladin felt threatened by the truth coming out he could just vanish. Though Adolin doubted the bridgeboy would leave his men behind. But he still could not risk it. He needed Kaladin’s cooperation. Of course, should the bridgeboy give him reason to doubt his loyalty that was a different story entirely.

“Alright.” Was the only thing Kaladin replied, apparently remembering his grim and brooding nature. His customary scowl was already back in place. At least Adolin now had seen proof that the bridgeboy hadn’t been born with that perpetual frown.

“But first, you are going to free my hands from whatever you did to them.” Kaladin looked almost amused hearing that demand, lips twitching, before seaming to realize the position they were in. Storms! How could the bridgeboy have been unaware of it until now!

Kaladin inhaled sharply and Adolin watched as Stormlight drifted from his hands to Kaladin’s mouth. It looked fascinating. If he hadn’t been in such a ridiculous position, Adolin would ‘ve remained rooted to the spot for a few moments longer just to watch the Stormlight drift from Kaladin’s mouth. As it was he hurried to scramble up, resisting the urge to punch the storming man again.

Adolin flexed his fingers, relieved to finally be able to move them again. He ran a hand through his hair and moved toward the table with the wine because he really wanted something to drink before remembering the goblet and the poison that led to this revelation in the first place. Adolin frowned. He had completely forgotten about the poison.

“Are you alright, bridgeboy?” It was probably a useless question but it didn’t hurt to ask. Kaladin seemed startled by it.

“I didn’t know you cared, princeling.” Adolin scowled. Look what came out of him trying to be nice. Kaladin scowled back. The storming man seemed to be alright if he could be this insufferable again already.

“Forget it! If you die from poisoning I’ll just tell them to chuck your corpse down a chasm, your stench alone is going to keep any Chasmfiends away from the area.”

Adolin took a seat and gesticulated towards the other chair, motioning for Kaladin to sit down. Kaladin seemed to hesitate for a moment before getting up from the floor and sitting down almost opposite of Adolin.  As they scowled at each other, Adolin asked himself how in the world the two of them could possibly work together. Adolin didn’t know how long they had been scowling at each other before Kaladin looked at the goblet with the poisoned needle and started speaking.

“Who would poison you? Dalinar is more of a problem to the other Highprinces.” Kaladin’s eyes widened in sudden realization, he jumped out of the seat. “Someone could’ve placed poison in Dalinar’s room as well!”

Adolin stood up, growing worried as well, although it was unlikely his father had even been to his rooms yet.

“My father should not be back in his quarters yet, he has a meeting that will probably go well into the night.” The two looked at each other before hurrying out of Adolin’s room to check Dalinar’s quarters. They passed Teft and Drehy and Kaladin stopped shortly to inform them about the current situation and left orders to question anyone who had access to Adolin’s room. 

“The poison used wasn’t lethal, although the small amount that entered my bloodstream had a very strong effect in a short amount of time,” Kaladin began as they rounded a corner. “I don’t think it was meant to kill, merely incapacitate.”

“How would you know?”

“I was trained to become a surgeon before I ended up in the army. Anyway, the amount of substance that can be put on a needle that size is miniscule. Even Blackbane or Backbreaker Powder couldn’t manage to kill a grown man, a child maybe, yes. Whoever planned this had to have known it wouldn’t be enough to kill you, only make you seriously sick for some time. Maybe if you suffered some illness or your body was weakened enough. My guess is that it was a Backbreaker Powder concentrate because of the fast and strong effects it showed. It would’ve paralyzed my body, made breathing hard and induced unconsciousness in a matter of minutes with a small possibility of choking to death if left lying on my back.” Adolin nodded, he knew about those poisons but not much beside the fact that they were lethal. Somehow, he wasn’t that surprised to hear that Kaladin had been trained as a surgeon. It fit the man and his overprotective nature.

“This attempt to harm you was better than the one a few days ago, but it’s purpose still seems to mainly be to incapacitate you.” Adolin agreed. The attempt a few days ago, when his food had been laced with a mild poison hadn’t even come as close to succeeding as this one. Apparently, the people trying to harm him and perhaps other members of his family hadn’t known that he had a food-taster.

Who would be stupid enough to make an attempt on his life with next to no possibility of it being successful? It made sense for the goal to have been merely to incapacitate him.

They reached his father’s rooms where another bridgeman, Hobber, guarded the door. Adolin had made a habit of learning all their names, he wanted to know who was tasked with protecting him and his family.

“Has anyone been in or out of this room since your start of the shift?”

“No, Sir!” Kaladin briefed Hobber on the situation and then both he and Adolin entered the room, closing the door behind them.

Instead of starting to look for any threats though, Kaladin started taking spheres out of the lamps. Adolin stared open mouthed at the storming man, utterly baffled.

“What in Kelek’s name are you doing?”

“I need to replace my spheres, they’re all dun.” Kaladin took out his pouch and put his dun spheres in the lamp. Adolin felt stupid for not realizing, he had just learned the bridgeboy could breathe in Stormlight after all. He started to walk deeper into the room intending to start looking for threats.

Kaladin grabbed him by the arm, keeping him in place. Adolin looked at him in annoyance.

“Let me look. You should not touch anything. It doesn’t matter if I get poisoned as long as I have spheres but it’s going to be a problem if you get poisoned.”

“Fine.” Adolin had to agree with Kaladin but it was frustrating not being able to do anything. He leaned against the wall and once more watched the bridgeboy carefully comb a room. Only this time he wasn’t annoyed at his thoroughness.

“We are still going to have a talk.” Adolin started after a while. Kaladin only grunted and continued inspecting everything, including the bedsheets.

“How long have you had those powers?” 

“I’m not sure, but I became aware of them during my time in Sadeas’ camp.”

“How exactly does it work? You just take the Stormlight from the spheres and then you can do stuff? Can I learn to do it?”

Kaladin stopped inspecting the bed and looked at him, an unreadable expression on his face. After a moment, he turned his head back and resumed his task.

“I don’t think you can simply learn it, I’m not exactly sure how I works either.” Adolin knew that wasn’t the whole truth but he let it slide for now. Getting some answers was enough for now. Even if it bothered him it was better than nothing and he didn’t want Kaladin to close up now that the storming man talked.

“And what can you do with it?”

“It enhances my strength and speed,” Kaladin started to explain obligingly. “It makes wounds heal faster and poison or alcohol rather useless. I can make things stick together.” Kaladin looked up at him and flashed him the tiniest of grins. “As you got to experience first-hand.” It caught Adolin completely off guard. He was glad Kaladin had already averted his gaze again or he would’ve witnessed the Kholin-heir staring stupidly.

“If you do something like that again I swear you’re going to regret it, bridgeboy.” Adolin finally snorted.

“I can also change the direction of gravitation of an object or person,” Kaladin went on, not reacting to Adolin’s comment. “Though I only learned that was possible when I saw the Assassin in White do it. I’ve practiced but I’m not very good yet.” He sounded frustrated. “You said you want to practice with me, when do you want to start? I train down in the chasms.”

“Tomorrow, in the later evening, so I don’t stand out so much. I can’t have people talk about me going down there with a bridgeman if I don’t have a good reason.” Going to train in the dark, damp chasms with the bridgeboy sounded about as fun as spending the afternoon in a fresh pile of Chull dung. Adolin wondered if it was a worrisome sign that he felt excited about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year! I hope you guys had a good start into 2018!  
> I'll try to get a chapter out every week, though I'm not sure I'll manage with exam time approaching way too fast.  
> If any of you find errors, please tell me about it! Also, if any of you are interested in reading over and correcting this fic, please say so, I'm not a native english speaker and always worry about mistakes. >_<  
> How do you think my story-scapegoat aka the attempt to poison Adolin is gonna end? Who did it? Was it an old assassin, doing his last job before retirement but confusing the targets due to dementia? Was it Adolin himself, trying to get Kaladin's attention or one of Adolin's old girlfriends trying to get revenge because Adolin looked at differrent pairs of boobs instead of her own? Who knows.  
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter!
> 
> PS: Stay tuned for Kaladi groping Adolin's undergarments in chapter 3, though not in the way you might hope


	3. Chapter 3

They fell silent and Adolin continued to watch the bridgeboy work. Although he was watching he wasn’t really watching out for Kaladin to do anything suspicious. Should he be more distrustful of the man? After all, he had always been suspicious of the man before. Bu that had been because he had been certain that the bridgeboy was hiding something and he had been right.

Adolin suddenly remembered Kaladin’s missing sleeve on the night of the assassination attempt.

“That night, the Shardblade cut you, didn’t it?”

Kaladin grunted in affirmation. “It did, but it turned out Stormlight can also heal the damage a Shardblade does.” Adolin raised a brow. It sounded like Kaladin hadn’t known about that fact prior to fighting the assassin either and still, he had faced a Shardbearer without hesitation. It assured Adolin to know that the bridgeboy’s bravery didn’t stem from his powers. Men that could only fight when they were confident that nothing would happen to them were men Adolin couldn’t trust fighting side by side with. Not that he wanted to fight side by side with this insufferable man. But it was good to know who he was working with a bit better.

Adolin eyed his father’s goblet. Kaladin had already checked it for any poisoned needles and tried a bit of the drink, but hadn’t found anything. Adolin doubted there was anything else placed in his father’s rooms. But better safe than sorry.

The whole attempt seemed half-hearted. Just like the attempt a few days ago, where his food-taster got to experience the effects of a mild Blackbane poisoning. Granted, placing a poisoned needle in his room was way more serious and required more planning, but the consequences of being caught or found out were far too severe for its goal to only be his temporary incapacity. Who would be stupid enough to risk their lives just to make him sick for a few days or weeks?

Adolin pinched the bridge of his nose. His thoughts kept returning to his opponent of the next duel. Parodin, a hot-headed young man who had challenged him a week ago. His family had been very displeased with his rash decision. It was no secret that Parodin wasn’t the most skilled at duels. His shards were basically already forfeited before the duel started. It would be no surprise if his family tried something to get the duel cancelled. Losing both plate and blade in a simple duel would be devastating. 

“I didn’t find anything suspicious, but I need to check your quarters again.” Adolin was startled from his musings and frowned.

“You need to search my room _again_? You think someone somehow managed to get in past the guards to place more poisoned needles?” Well, the storming man’s paranoia prevented him from being poisoned so Adolin supposed he shouldn’t be complaining.

“I didn’t check everything yet. Perhaps they placed more than one needle in your room, I need to search your mattress and sheets. It would be easy to place one in any of them.”

Adolin heaved a sigh of long suffering. “Fine, let’s head back.” _Of course_ the bridgeboy needed to search his bed.

They informed Hobber that the room seemed safe and left instructions to inform Dalinar about it when he returned from his meeting, before making their way back to Adolin’s own quarters.

The servants they encountered on the way didn’t seem overly interested in them, so Adolin guessed news hadn’t yet travelled far. Rumours would spread soon though, when questioning was done people would start gossiping. Kaladin eyed everyone they passed with suspicion, probably ready to stick his spear into them if they made a wrong move.

“Perhaps it would’ve been wiser to let the public assume the poisoning had been successful,” Kaladin began in a low voice when they reached an empty part of the corridor. “Maybe it would keep them from making another attempt to harm you since their goal doesn’t seem to be your death.” Adolin hadn’t thought about that but he couldn’t fault Kaladin’s reasoning.

“You know, that’s actually not a bad idea, bridgeboy. Your skull seems to contain a brain after all.” Kaladin’s scowl told him that his humour was not appreciated.

“Hopefully I’ll grow lucky and become deaf so I don’t have to listen to you any longer, princeling.” The grumbled reply made Adolin snort.

“News about it have not travelled yet, so we could still pretend that it was successful. Though that would make sneaking out to train in the chasms even more difficult.” Adolin waited until they reached his room and closed the door before continuing. “I’d have to talk with my father about it first but I think it would work. I also might have an idea what this whole thing is about.”

Kaladin stopped his determined stride towards Adolin’s bed and turned towards him. “You know who might be behind it?”

“Well, not for sure but you know about the duel this week?” Kaladin grunted in affirmation. “I keep thinking about Parodin’s family. They were really displeased with him wagering both his plate and blade. Apparently, he has a bit of a gambling problem. It could be they tried to convince him to step back from the challenge and he wouldn’t listen. So, they’re trying to get the duel cancelled by other means.”

Kaladin seemed to consider this as he went to the bed and started petting and squeezing the sheets. Had someone told him a few months ago that he’d be watching a darkeyed bridgeboy give his bedding an intense massage, he would have suspected them of being Wit in a disguise. He could see the muscles underneath the blue Kholin-uniform shift as the bridgeboy moved his hands across the sheets.

“It makes more sense than anything else I can think of at the moment,” Kaladin began as he finally laid the bedsheet aside. “But if they want to cancel the duel wouldn’t it be easier to poison Parodin so he can’t participate in the duel? Why risk repercussions by going after you? It would be safer for them to incapacitate their own family member.”

“Perhaps in hopes of pinning it on the Parshendi? They already killed my uncle and people believe they tried to kill Elhokar as well. Maybe people then would start to believe that my whole family are potential targets and I was just lucky enough to survive the poisoning attempt.”

Kaladin started taking off his boots and Adolin just watched in silent suffering as he climbed onto the mattress and started crawling around on it. He told himself that it was for his own safety. It didn’t make watching the bridgeboy search for poisoned needles on his hands and knees any more comfortable. Didn’t the storming man care what he looked like? He wondered if it would be better or worse if Kaladin faced his way.

“It’s certainly worth investigating.”

After what felt like a small eternity, Kaladin finally got up from the mattress and turned towards Adolin’s dresser, eyeing it in consideration. Adolin stepped forward before he realized what he was doing.

“You are _not_ going to grope my undergarments!”

“Don’t worry, princeling, I won’t be groping or fondling your undergarments.” Adolin saw Kaladin’s lips twitching in amusement and, to his horror, he could feel his face growing hot. “I’m merely going to check them for poison.”

“Is that really necessary?” He barely suppressed the urge to go stand in front of his dresser to protect the virtue of his clothes from the bridgeboy.

“Well, you could always continue wearing your current clothes. And don’t pretend like _I_ want to search them. But it would be a good place to hide needles.” Adolin shuddered at the idea of not changing his clothes. What would the women think of him when he started to smell? Though if they went with the plan of pretending that Adolin had been poisoned that would be no problem.

The first drawer was opened and Adolin watched in mortification as Kaladin started petting every piece of clothing thoroughly. Adolin really, really wanted a cup of wine. He looked around his room. At the blank walls and ceiling. He really should hang something on the walls. Perhaps a map of some sorts. Or drawings of the stances and military formations. Perhaps a picture of some dangerous animal, a chasmfiend or whitespine. Adolin didn’t really like either of those options because they felt like the expected things. He wanted a space where he could breathe and take a break from his duties and calling. He was interested in fashion but that was not something he could hang pictures of in his quarters.

Eventually, his gaze drifted back to Kaladin. As he was trying to ignore that the bridgeboy was currently examining every piece of underclothing he owned, he remembered Kaladin’s nickname.

“Stormblessed.” Kaladin grew slightly tense around the shoulders and Adolin knew that he was on the right track. “That isn’t a name you gave yourself but one your men gave you, isn’t it?” Kaladin grunted. Some men should just be born mute because they obviously didn’t want to hold a proper conversation and the ability to talk was wasted on them.

“Why did they give you that name? Because of your powers?”

Kaladin was quiet for a few moments, obviously considering how much he should tell Adolin.

“The nickname didn’t stem from what I can do precisely,” he seemed to hesitate a second before continuing. “But they do know about my abilities. I trust them not to tell anyone about it unless I give them permission.”

“Where did you get it then?” Adolin was even more curious now and chose to ignore the blatant reminder that Kaladin didn’t trust him not to tell anyone.

“Sadeas decided to have me strung up during a Highstorm to have the Stormfather judge me. Didn’t expect me to survive.” Kaladin shrugged.

“What?!” Adolin felt horrified just thinking about being left outside during a Highstorm. Of course, he knew that it was a punishment in some armies for the worst crimes but it wasn’t done in his father’s camp. He stared at the bridgeboy, who held one of Adolin’s smallclothes in hand, astounded that the man was still alive. Even knowing that Kaladin was far tougher and more resilient thanks to the stormlight he couldn’t help but stare, feeling a bit dumbstruck. Highstorms were strong enough to send boulders flying! It was no wonder the bridgemen seemed to revere the storming man.

“What did you do, sleep with his wife?” Adolin was only joking of course, but Kaladin still send him a look as if he had just accused him of something especially disgusting. Well, he guessed he kind of did. Sadeas’ wife was just as much of a snake as her husband. The two really did deserve each other.

“I tried to protect my men, but I made a mess of it.” Kaladin didn’t add anything more and Adolin didn’t ask.

Men trying to protect themselves and their own. It shouldn’t be something that could get you strung up during a Highstorm like some sort of example. If he could despise or hate Sadeas more he would.

Adolin imagined how satisfying it would be to tie Sadeas to a pole or string him up on a wall before a Highstorm. He wondered if it would be less gratifying than killing him with his blade since then he could witness Sadeas’ end himself. But the death through a Shardblade was too quick and painless for Adolin’s liking. Sadeas deserved to suffer.

“You could dress up as one of the servants. Put on a wig and use eye-drops to darken your eyes temporarily.”  Adolin was startled from his dark musings.

“What in Kelek’s name are you talking about?”

“You said it would be even more difficult for you to sneak out to train if we pretended that you were poisoned.” Kaladin put Adolin’s underclothes back and shut the dresser. “Also, your undergarments are quite safe, princeling.” Adolin was going to throttle the bridgeboy.

“You want me to dress up as a servant?” Adolin felt incredulous. It didn’t matter that it was a good plan for sneaking out unnoticed. But the idea of him, the heir to the Kholin household, to dress up as a darkeyed servant was just too much. “Wait, there are eye-drops like that?”

“I,” Kaladin emphasized, “don’t want you to dress up. Nor do I want to train with you. It was merely a suggestion.” Adolin exhaled slowly. He would not get into another argument. He would not.

“Where would I even _get_ a wig and those eye-drops you mentioned?” It would be even more suspicious if someone found out Adolin had acquired a disguise. It would just beg people to try and find out what he was up to.

“I could probably get them for you by tomorrow afternoon,” Kaladin said, only hesitating slightly.

Adolin narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t say I was agreeing to the plan.”

“Well, I’ve yet to hear you come up with a better one, princeling.” The storming bridgeboy actually sounded exasperated. As if he was speaking to some stubborn kid.  Adolin scowled. Kaladin scowled back. “I was only trying to help. For all I care you can spend the time until the duel locked up in your room looking at your fashion magazines!”

Adolin threw his hands up. “Fine! Then try and get the things, bridgeboy!” He frowned, realizing something. “How are you going to do that without attracting attention yourself?”

“That’s none of your concern.”

“Yes, it is. People are going to talk if the captain of the Kholin guard buys drops to darken one’s eyes.”

Kaladin seemed to consider his point, before obviously deciding that Adolin was right, no matter how little he liked the fact.

“One of my men is a Herdazian.” Was all Kaladin said. As if that explained anything to Adolin.

“And?” he prodded.

“He has like a hundred cousins throughout all the camps. Honestly, I doubt they’re all related but they’re quite resourceful.” As he was talking, Kaladin began to look around the room with a thoughtful frown. Probably trying to find anything else he should or could examine for poison.

The fact surprised Adolin. He’d never thought much about any of the Herdazians he saw working around the camp. They all looked quite similar in his opinion, kind of like Parshmen. Huh. They’d make great spies.

“Alright, then I’ll leave that task to you.” Kaladin gave a non-committal grunt. “If you’re done checking my room, leave a message for my father. Say he should come here when his meeting ends.” The bridgeboy looked at him with a mix of alarm and anger.

“Not because of that.” He could guess what Kaladin was worried about.

Perhaps telling his father about Kaladin’s powers would be better, the right thing to do. But Adolin had already given his word that he would only tell Dalinar if Kaladin gave him a reason to or consented to it. Gaining Kaladin’s trust bit by frustrating bit was more important at the moment.

The uncertainty that flickered over Kaladin’s face, before being replaced by his usual stoic face, made Adolin sigh. Getting the bridgeboy to trust him enough to tell him everything he knew would be a test to Adolin’s patience. And patience wasn’t his strong point when it came to the man.

“Have I given you any reason to doubt my honour?” Perhaps he should offer Kaladin to remain until his father returned. But Adolin really needed some time to think about everything that happened.

Kaladin shifted his weigh, uncomfortable and uncertain but not wanting to show it. “No.”

“What good would it do me to lie to you now then?” The bridgeboy seemed to have a higher opinion of chulls than of Adolin.

After mulling what Adolin had just said over he finally nodded and levelled Adolin with a look he couldn’t quite place.

“Alright.” Kaladin made his way to the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow then. Two of my men will be stationed outside your door throughout the whole night.”

Adolin nodded farewell and sat down heavily in his chair as soon as the door closed behind the bridgeboy. He ran a hand through his messy black and blond hair and leaned back, sighing softly as his muscles began to relax. He hadn’t noticed how tense he had been. The tenseness probably stemmed from Kaladin always seeming to be on edge, always ready for some danger to spring forth from the shadows and always suspicious of everyone around he didn’t know not to be a threat.

Staring blankly at the wall, Adolin remembered the moment the bridgeboy had seemed to breathe in the stormlight and the parts of his skin visible to Adolin had started to glow. In his shocked and then angry state, he hadn’t been able to fully appreciate how fascinating it had looked. Aside from the Assassin in White, he had never seen anything like it. And back then he had been too busy trying not to die to pay attention to it.

The only similar thing Adolin could think of was shardplate. The way the stormlight streamed from the cracks in the armour and the wisps of it twisting and curling before vanishing. In a way, he supposed it was some sort of armour for Kaladin. Protecting him from harm and making him more resilient, much like Shardplate did. But it was also a weapon which made the bridgeboy even more deadly and capable than Adolin already knew him to be.

He remembered one of the shash on Kaladin’s forehead.

Dangerous.

He considered the bridgeboy’s panic and worry over others, especially lighteyes, finding out. They’d probably fear him, thinking about the Assassin in White and his rumoured powers. Kaladin hadn’t saved any of their lives personally. They didn’t know him. They would just see a darkeyes in a high-ranking position with powers they didn’t understand. The shash saying dangerous on Kaladin’s forehead a fitting label for them. It would be easy to convince other people in power and the public of the bridgeboy being a threat that needed being taken care of if they didn’t find a way to secure the power for themselves.

Adolin sighed. It would not come to that, he reminded himself. Even if he had to tell his father about it, Dalinar wouldn’t pass the information on. Once again, he wondered what it had been Kaladin had told Dalinar. And which of his father’s friends it had been about.

 

 

The door opening suddenly startled Adolin out of his seat, a small burst of adrenalin accompanying his surprise. He had dozed off. His hand was already outstretched, ready and waiting for his Shardblade to form from mist.

Dalinar strode in, steps hurried, a serious and worried expression marking his face. Adolin let his hand fall to his side, his stance turning relaxed as he inclined his head in greeting.

“Are you alright?” Dalinar’s eyes roamed over his body, ascertaining that there were no visible injuries.

“I am alright, father. The- “ he stopped himself from saying ‘bridgeboy’, his father did not like it. “Captain Kaladin noticed something was wrong before I had any chance to be in danger.” Dalinar nodded, apparently already having received a short report about the incident on the way here.

“I was told there was poison placed in your goblet.”

“Yes,” Adolin gestured towards the table. “Apparently whatever poison was used reacted with the metal and that was how it was noticed in the first place.”

His father’s already serious face darkened further, the lines of his face becoming more pronounced. “I do not know why they would try so hard to harm you instead of me, but-“

Adolin cut in before his father could continue with whatever monologue was to come. “Father, I don’t think this is about the move against the other Highprinces or about politics at all.” Well, that came out far more confident than he felt about his suspicion.

Dalinar levelled him with a sharp gaze.

“Whatever poison is placed on that needle,” he gestured towards the table once more for emphasis. “It would not be enough to kill me unless I already was sick or weakened, even If it was Blackbane or Backbreaker Powder.”

“How can you be certain of that?”

“Captain Kaladin was trained to become a surgeon before joining the army, as you probably already know, he examined the needle and made an educated guess.” It wasn’t a complete lie. The bridgeboy had examined it by accidentally poisoning himself with it.

When Dalinar only nodded, obviously trusting the bridgeboy’s judgement, Adolin went on and told him about his suspicions regarding Parodin’s family having something to do with it.

“I don’t know, son,” Dalinar began after Adolin had finished. “It is certainly a possibility and I will look into it, as I agree with the attempts so far not seeming to have your death as their goal.”

“We could just pretend that the poison was discovered too late and that I’m seriously sick and weakened by it. Until I make a miraculous recovery on the day of the duel.” Hiding from danger like a coward usually wasn’t Adolin’s style but it would be stupid to invite any more attempts on his health so close to the duel. Gaining more shards was too important. If he was right there should be no more incidents like the last two after he beat Parodin and won the shards.

“That is a good idea. Even if the goal isn’t to kill you, if we can minimize the danger, we should do so. However,” Dalinar went on. “I still want the captain to guard you personally until we know who is behind it.” Those last words were spoken with finality and left no room for argument. His father knew very well that Adolin didn’t have much love for the bridgeboy. Little did Dalinar know that tonight Adolin had no intent to argue with his father about having to spend time with Kaladin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, that chapter turned out way longer than planned...hope you enjoyed it, guys!   
> I apologize if it got a bit cracky, I have a hard time holding myself back from turning to total hilarity, especially since my last fics were all crack.  
> The image of Kaladin petting Adolin's undergarments with a serious and concentrated expression was too amusing an idea not to put in here. Tag it as "shit I think about while at uni instead of concentrating on the lecture about victorian novels". Also, let me tell you how satisfying it is to write trashy fanfic while your prof talks about some of the greatest books of the victorian era. It's like writing 'fuck you' in calligraphy.
> 
> Anyway, the next chapter should be done by the end of the week and might or might not involve me having a bit of fun with Adolin. Or should I say tormenting him a bit. He's definietly very displeased with all of it and it's the bridgeboy's fault.


	4. Chapter 4

The empty stone wall didn’t budge under Adolin’s dark gaze but that didn’t stop him from continuing to stare it down. He was in a bad mood.

Usually, he would go out and distract himself. Spend time with the lighteyed lady he was courting at the moment. Invite her to lunch or dinner, if he had the time. Look at jewellery or clothes in the various stalls and shops throughout the busy camp. Visit the practice grounds and train with his blade until his hair was dark with sweat and his muscles told him to rest and whatever had soured his mood forgotten through the exertion.

Storm whoever it was for attacking him. Storm the bridgeboy for coming up with a plan that kept him safe but also a prisoner of his own quarters.

Thinking about the bridgeboy didn’t improve his mood by any means. In a way, Kaladin was the reason for Adolin’s bad mood.

Adolin left the wall alone and his displeased gaze fell upon the, by now replaced and very much poison-free goblet.

Rubbing his temples and making a conscious effort to stop frowning, Adolin exhaled slowly. At this rate, there was a headache looming in his near future.

 

_8 hours previously_

After his father left Adolin went over to his bed, tired and exhausted by the day’s events. Stripping down to his underclothes, he folded his uniform and placed it neatly on top of the dresser, his boots on the floor next to it.

The first thing he saw when he pushed back the covers was a long, dark hair, contrasting with the pale cream colours of the bedlinen. He picked it up with a scowl and let it fall to the floor.

He remembered the bridgeboy groping the sheets and crawling around on the mattress like some kind of axehound trying to find a trail. He should’ve found it hilarious. If only it didn’t make him feel like he missed a step and stumbled. Been thrown off-balance.

Dismissing the thought, he placed a thick piece of cloth over his bedside lamp, a clear goblet filled with spheres, and slipped under the sheets. They rustled softly as Adolin turned, trying to find a comfortable position. He burrowed deeper under the covers, curling up slightly, more for the comfort than because of the slight chill in the night air.

The clean smell of a freshly made bed registered, but it was mixed with something else. A subtler yet more pronounced smell. Richer and darker than the gentleness of fresh sheets, but no less pleasant. More tangy and salty.

Blood rushed to his face. Cheeks burning, Adolin cursed under his breath and shoved the sheet away from his face with a jerky motion. 

It didn’t help much and Adolin felt mortified at somehow still being able to smell it. Clinging to his senses like some sort of haunting phantom-smell.

Turning onto his back, Adolin stared up at the dark ceiling, willing his hear to slow its beat.

Storming bridgeboy!

Breathing in and out through his mouth and resolutely ignoring the urge to further investigate the smell, Adolin fell asleep.

 

_1 hour previously_

No light filtered into his room, as it had no windows. Just like the majority of the soulcast barracks and buildings. Sometimes the soulcaster would add windows later. It was harder for people to sneak in that way, but if you asked Adolin it was storming annoying was what it was.

As it was, Adolin didn’t think about soulcast buildings or the time of day at the moment. His mind was still foggy, thoughts flowing slow like a trickle of water making its slow way across a surface.

Comfortable warmth surrounded his body and his muscles were relaxed.

His breath quickened in anticipation as he let his hand slowly travel down his body.

It had been a while since he had let himself linger in bed for some drawn-out pleasure in the morning. Usually, he would either ignore his hardness or work it quick and efficiently, more like running a drill than pleasuring himself.

Today he had no morning duties to attend to. Since he was supposed to be ill from poison and all that.

Fingertips ran over the well-trained muscles of his torso, stroking up and down. Exploring his chest, teasing for a bit before he grew impatient. He let a finger dip inside his belly button, relishing the ticklish sensitivity of the skin there, before finally allowing his hand to reach inside his undergarments.

At the first touch, Adolin inhaled sharply through his mouth, eyes closing in delight at the sensation that coursed through his body. Grip loose and caressing, slightly squeezing as he neared the tip. He worked himself slow and languidly, not wanting to rush his release. He let his thumb rub over the slit, smearing his slowly gathering wetness over the head. A shudder ran through his body as he squeezed more firmly, still keeping up his steady and slow pace. The motion of his hand encountered less resistance now, the evidence of his rising pleasure spread over the length of it.

As he grew closer to completion he bit his lip, wanting to keep any sounds to himself. He turned his face, burying it into the pillow as he squeezed just right and breathed in sharply through his nose. And promptly let go of his member, as if burned, as a distinctively tangy and salty smell filtered through his lust induced daze.

Between heavy breathes, Adolin let out a few colourful curses.

There was no way his bedding still held the bridgeboy’s scent.

Face burning, he groaned in frustration as his member gave an insistent throb. Just a bit more. He contemplated shortly if he should just continue. His thoughts stubbornly kept on returning to the captain of the guard. Predictably following the principle of thinking about something the more you didn’t want to think about it.

The warmth suddenly seemed stifling and Adolin pulled the covers back, pushing them to the foot of the bed as if they had personally offended him. His soft and lazy mood had evaporated like water left over a fire for too long.

He got out of bed, feet hitting the soft carpet covering the stone floor. The undergarments were restraining his hardness uncomfortably, reminding him with an almost painful throb that it was still there. He grimaced.

He would have been happier if it had started to flag as soon as his thoughts had turned to the bridgeboy.

 

_now_

 After having paced for a good twenty minutes, Adolin decided that Kaladin had ruined his mood long enough. That the man in question had no idea about it nor was at fault didn’t matter. Being angry at the bridgeboy felt better than cursing his brain for recalling the phantom-smell or questioning why it had brought forth the smell in the first place.

Forcing himself to relax, Adolin grabbed his fashion magazine and sat down in a chair. It wasn’t a new magazine or one he hadn’t looked at before but, being confined to his quarters, he had little else to do.

The drawings inside the magazine were coloured and showed detailed sketches of various shirts, trousers, jackets and even shoes. They were not necessarily drawn by masters of their craft but that didn’t mean they were bad. A lot of artists felt that drawing fashion wasn’t their calling, instead turning to make studies of plants and animals or travelling to different countries to capture the contrast to their own culture and landscape.

While Adolin had little knowledge about art, he could still tell that the drawings in the magazine were very well done. The articles of clothing depicted had a feeling of substance to it and it was easy to tell whether the fabric was heavy or thin. The people wearing the clothes were often drawn without faces but Adolin preferred it that way. He would feel a bit odd scrutinising pictures of people he didn’t know, especially in public.

The coloured pages of the magazine were filled with faceless people wearing mostly frilly clothing in all sorts of fabrics and colours. The page he currently looked at showed a light blue shirt that looked playful with the ruffles at the collar and the wrists, but also showed off the form of the body underneath. The shirt was a bit tight but not as much as to stretch.

It would surely be another one or two years at the least before the war ended and Adolin could lay his uniform aside and freely decide what he wanted to wear. It wasn’t that he disliked the uniform and it suited him rather well, or so he had been told on multiple occasions. But wearing the same outfit every day for so long was frustrating and annoying, especially since wearing the latest fashion was considered good form even in the Shattered Plains. But also, when going out to dinner or shopping with whomever he was courting at the moment. Most ladies complimented his looks in the uniform, but half of them later complained about him never wearing anything casual.

The pants in the drawing were a bit tighter than the military standard ones he was currently wearing and looked like they were made from thinner material, with the way they followed the outlines of the legs so closely. He was sure the ladies would appreciate it, if he wore one of those, especially with one of those shortened coats over it.

 

A knock on the door forced Adolin away from his appraisal of the clothes. The door opened after Adolin gave permission to enter and he could see a tray with food and something to drink before the person carrying the tray became visible.

His appetite all but evaporated and his stomach lurched. Retreating behind the cover of his magazine, Adolin hoped his face wasn’t as hot as it felt.

There was no reason to feel embarrassed, he told himself. But it did very little to let him forget about this morning. That was precisely the reason he didn’t think about anyone specific when pleasuring himself. Not that he had thought about the bridgeboy.  Not really. That had been an unfortunate accident. The most unfortunate and tragic accident of his life but he would not let it make him feel miserable or awkward. He refused. Even if that decision didn’t necessarily make him feel better. But being a soldier, he had faced far more embarrassing situations. Namely when he was wearing Shardplate on the battlefield and had to relief himself.

“Why are you here this early?” Kaladin looked about as thrilled about being here as Adolin felt. At least they could agree on something.

“Dalinar gave the order for me to guard you until the threat is found.” Adolin felt a fool. His father had told him the very same thing last night. It also seemed reasonable that the bridgeboy would get his food. The less people knew about the ploy, the less likely it was people found out that Adolin was in perfect health.

“It’s not like you can stand guard all day and night.”  As Kaladin set the tray with dishes on the table he glanced at the fashion magazine, then at Adolin and raised a brow. Adolin refused to react to the provocation.

“No, I can’t, but I can guard you twenty bells each day before I need some rest.”

Slightly perplexed, Adolin watched as Kaladin plucked a spoon from the tray and started eating a few spoonfuls of the two dishes that were placed in bowls as if that was a normal thing. One seemed to be the spicy porridge the kitchen prepared for Adolin most days. The other bowl held some pickled fruit. 

“Don’t be ridiculous! Even if you have more stamina, you can’t tell me you can properly train with me or fight with that little rest.” He stared as long fingers plucked a piece of fresh bread and salted meat before putting it in his mouth and chewing slowly. “Are you now also my food taster or do you not get enough to eat, bridgeboy?”

Swallowing the breakfast, Kaladin looked up at him. “Since your last food taster is still recovering from food poisoning and I don’t know your new one, I thought it important to check again. And you’re right.” Adolin thought he had heard wrong. “It’ll be difficult to do my best with that little rest. I don’t know how well the Stormlight can compensate.” Kaladin frowned. Or rather, frowned even more than he did already. Kaladin seemed to ponder about the problem as he sniffed at the drink, Adolin guessed it was herbal tea by the smell, before taking a sip. He shoved the tray in Adolin’s direction, indicating that it was safe to eat.

As Adolin picked listlessly at his food with a second, clean spoon, and ate a bit of the porridge, he watched as the bridgeboy took a few steps towards the middle of the room before stopping and turning to stand guard at the door. He guessed the bridgeboy had wanted to search his rooms again before remembering that he had just done a thorough search last night. But Adolin could understand the sentiment. He would rather actively do something instead of standing around and waiting for something to happen as well. He understood the urge to act instead of standing still.

“You could always shorten your shift,” Adolin prompted, tired of waiting for Kaladin to come to the same conclusion. “Your men do a good job as guards.”  Kaladin’s face brightened slightly at those last words.

Honestly, his father might have told him to guard Adolin personally at all times, but the bridgeboy couldn’t be taking that literal, could he? Judging by Kaladin’s plan of guarding him all day except for four bells to rest, he seemed to be taking it quite literal.

“Alright, but I’m still going to taste all your meals. I don’t trust the new food taster and I don’t want to risk my men getting poisoned.” Adolin hummed in agreement as he emptied the cup of tea. That meant Kaladin would be his guard throughout most of the day still, perhaps with a small pause after dinner as to not draw attention when Adolin made his way to the chasm. If the disguise arrived. Perhaps, with it, they would be able to go into the chasms earlier tomorrow.

“Rumour has already spread that you have fallen ill and people are gossiping whether it’s a normal illness or something else.” Adolin was pleased to hear that. Trust the rumour mills to spread whatever they heard far and wide in a matter of hours. A doctor they trusted to stay silent had been send into his quarters before his father had left last night. It was almost worth admiring how fast some people spread rumours.

“That’s great. Let’s just hope that keeps anyone from attempting to maim me for a while.”

He dismissed Kaladin, gaze lingering on his retreating form in consideration. With those long legs, the current fashionably slightly tighter trousers with their thinner fabric would work splendidly for the bridgeboy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, if we're being honest Adolin's bed probably would not have any of Kaladin's smell, unless Adolin's mother was an axehound, but I couldn't resist writing this chapter. And since Adolin is still in denial about finding Kaldin attractive but I still couldn't resist writing something like this you'll just have to bear with me here. Direct any complaints you have towards Adolin, he'll collect those and burn me on a stake with all the letters of complaints bc he isn't so happy about the scenario I put him in. 
> 
> Btw would you be interested in a chapter that has Kaladin's POV? I've already written a bit ahead bc I won't have as much time over the next few weeks, so the next two-three chapters are Adolin's POV. I had actually planned of changing POV throughout each chapter, like the beginning of ch 1 indicates but I kinda just stayed in Adolin's... 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the story so far! <3
> 
> Next week: the author is gonna make fun of some of her plotholes by pretending it's the characters fault.  
> Please tell me if you encounter some bad grammar or other mistakes or give a shout if you would be interested in beta-reading the story!


	5. Chapter 5

In the late afternoon, another knock came upon the door. Adolin was relieved to hear it, even if it was probably the storming bridgeboy. Half a day in his rooms and Adolin was already on the brink of madness. He felt so bored, he was sure he would be going out of his mind soon.

The few magazines he owned were no longer a distraction at all. He felt like he could describe each drawing of clothing from memory in vivid detail No matter how good or interesting the clothes looked, if he had to look through the magazines again he felt he would make a small pyre with them, watching his sanity drift and vade away like the smoke.

After he had shoved the magazines in the corner of a shelf, Adolin had attempted to do the stances but soon discovered that he had nothing he could use as a replacement for his Shardblade. And practicing the stances empty handed did not nearly feel as gratifying. But summoning his Shardblade was out of the question. The room with its adjacent room, where a small bath was located, had a relatively wide space for living quarters, but it was by no means huge enough to practice the stances with a Shardblade in. Training with his blade would at the very least result in some destroyed furniture and perhaps a cut wall or two. In the end, he had settled for doing the warm-up routine until he was exhausted enough to settle down.

Kaladin stepped in, a brown bundle of some sort slung over his shoulder and with a small grin he handed the bag over to Adolin. With equal measures of excitement and displeasure, Adolin opened the bag. It revealed a pair of mud coloured trousers which seemed to have real mud on them as well. Next was a shirt that had perhaps been white once, but was now more of a dark beige, sprinkled with various stains and a few holes. Underneath the clothes, there was a smaller leather pouch with a vial in it. Adolin assumed those were the eyedrops. After that came the ugliest cap Adolin had ever seen. Some brown wool cap that looked like an axehound had had a go with it before someone rescued it but failed to put it out of its misery. Adolin vowed to burn it as soon as possible, along with a prayer and whatever that _thing_ underneath was.

With a sound of disgust, he picked up the dark brown mop of something and stared at the bridgeboy in mute horror. There was a foolish hope at the back of his head waiting for Kaladin to say that this was all a big joke and that wasn’t what he brought for Adolin to wear. When the bridgeboy just stared back, dark eyes twinkling with glee and lips not even trying to contain the smirk. Adolin shook the thing, in case he hadn’t seen the abomination and held it between forefinger and thumb in front of the storming man.

“You’ve got to be joking!” Adolin dropped the wig back into the bag with a shudder, where it landed with a sift sound. “It’s going to give me lice or some sort of disease!” Why had Adolin agreed to this idea? The thought of going mad from boredom suddenly sounded a lot more appealing.

Kaladin snorted and shook his head. “Don’t worry, princeling, the wig is new.” 'Unlike the clothes', was left unsaid. But the way the wig looked Adolin didn’t trust that statement. If it was indeed new, it was the ugliest thing anyone had ever made.

“It doesn’t look new! And shouldn’t it be enough if I wear the cap? It’s going to be dark when I leave anyway.” It was a reasonable question and Adolin was most definitely not whining.

“If you want to stay inside all day tomorrow, I don’t care,” Kaladin shrugged. “But the wig is new, it’s just a very cheap one. The only people in need of wigs like that are of higher rank. Which also means that it is unlikely they would sell it again. It would draw unwanted attention and the value is not enough for that. Better to just burn it.” Adolin agreed wholeheartedly with that last sentence.

He scowled at the bridgeboy, though he wasn’t really angry. It was more of a reflex.

The small smirk was still there, tucked into the corner of Kaladin’s mouth like some sort of secret.

 Adolin turned away and went to get his sphere pouch. Mostly so he didn’t have to look at Kaladin’s face any longer but also because he realized he had forgotten to give the bridgeboy spheres for purchasing the disguise. The fact that the bridgeboy had paid for Adolin’s things left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He looked at the contents of his pouch before fishing out a green-glowing sphere. “Is a brome enough?” He had no idea what the stuff was worth. Not much, he suspected. Only the eyedrops would be slightly expensive.

Kaladin looked at the sphere Adolin held in his outstretched hand, before nodding and taking it. “A brome is more than enough. The things weren’t that expensive.”

“You can keep the rest. Take it as a fee for the people who acquired the things.” Adolin fingered the discoloured clothing in the bag. “Or you could buy me a better shirt.”

The bridgeboy just snorted, not deigning Adolin with a reply.

 

 

The kitchen had been given directions to not send hard to digest meals like this morning but to make a soup that helps with high fever. According to the doctor and Kaladin one of the effects the poison would have on him. Adolin couldn’t believe they had overlooked something like that until the doctor had pointed it out when he had come to visit Adolin after breakfast and had commented on the leftover food on the tray.

The bridgeboy had been left with the task of smuggling something more filling into Adolin’s quarters. For lunch, he had managed to acquire some fruit from the market and bread, filled with some kind of cheese and meat. One of his men had carried around the small bundle of food until the corridor had been clear of people during one of their rounds. In a way, it was hilarious that bridgemen were smuggling food into the quarters of the Highprince’s son.

Kaladin still tested the food send by the kitchen, since Adolin had to eat some of it or it would surely not go unnoticed.

Now, the bridgeboy had just walked in with another bundle and Adolin found himself eager to find out what was inside. He rarely ate anything directly from the market in camp. When he didn’t eat food from the kitchens or on the weekly banquets, he usually went to public house with one lighteyed lady or another. Rarely he got the chance to eat something from one of the stalls.

Kaladin pulled out a round and crispy looking loaf of bread and placed it in front of Adolin. It smelled good. Spicy and savoury. Adolin removed the circle of bread that had been cut out of the top half to be used as a lid and inhaled more deeply.

“Rock made it. He insisted we get you some of his stew. Had to get a bit creative with getting it here. It wouldn’t have been subtle if Lopen walked around with a bowl of stew in his hand.”

Adolin picked up the spoon left from his broth and dug in. It tasted as good as it smelled, if not better. Adolin knew Bridge Four always prepared their own dinner but he had never expected the meals, apparently prepared by the tall Horneater, to taste this good. And Adolin felt oddly touched that the bridgemen had decided to smuggle in something from their evening meal instead of simply getting something from the market that would no doubt be easier to transport.

“It’s delicious.” Kaladin looked pleased by that, like some parent hearing their child being praised. Adolin had to hold back a snort as the image of Kaladin as some sort of fierce mother axehound with her young came unbidden to his mind.

 

 

 

The late hour was the thing Adolin liked the most about the whole sneaking out thing. As it meant he didn’t have to wear the disgusting looking wig. His only guess as to the reason a new wig would like this was if it was meant to imitate the hair of someone that hadn’t been able to care for it in some time.

 Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would either have to wear that revolting thing or risk going mad inside his quarters.

But those were things to despair over for another day. Not it was time to sneak out and train.

He looked at himself in the small mirror that stood in the adjacent bathroom. The person staring back gave off a disjointed image with the shabby clothing and the blue eyes. Worrying his lower lip, he tried to stick his hair more firmly underneath the cap, concerned that his hair would show before he could flee the lights of the sphere lamps inside the building. Perhaps it would be better to put on the wig after all.

It should be fine, right? It was a short walk to the front door and no one would pay him any heed, wearing a messenger cap and looking like his clothes hadn’t seen clean water in weeks.

The leather pouch was laying on the washstand and Adolin took it, carefully pulling out the vial. He had never used any type of eye drops before. Kaladin had explained that there was nothing to be careful about. The drops weren’t poisonous, so there was no need to worry about putting in too much. And the colour lasted for only a few hours. So, he needed to bring it with him into the chasms.

It was a shame and a waste that he couldn’t bring his plate with him as well. It wasn’t hard to adapt to fighting in Shardplate, but it still needed training. Your body was stronger, faster and more dexterous, which naturally allowed you to fight differently. You could take more risks. Do manoeuvres that would be impossible without the plate.

Unless they found some place to train unnoticed and without fear of discovery on the camp grounds, it would be impossible for Adolin to fight against Kaladin while he wore his plate. Chances of getting his plate down into the chasms were below zero. He couldn’t think of a god excuse even if he wasn’t currently supposed to be terribly sick.

After pulling open the vial, he carefully let a few drops fall into each eye. He watched in fascination and with a slight twinge of panic as the blue of his eyes disappeared and morphed into a light shade of brown.

As he stared into the mirror he was suddenly hit with an epiphany.

Adolin was a storming fool and he had been played for one.

He could have just worn one of Bridge Fours uniforms. Paired with the eyedrops and wig it would’ve been no more suspicious than the outfit he was currently wearing.

Despite feeling like he should be indignant, he couldn’t really muster any anger. An amused huff escaped his mouth.

No one ever treated him like Kaladin did. It was a breath of fresh air when he wasn’t too occupied with being mad at the bridgeboy.

Perhaps Kaladin hadn’t thought about simply giving Adolin a uniform of one of the guards instead of a shabby outfit. Either way, Adolin was a storming fool.

Shaking his head, Adolin redressed, putting on his own clothes. He headed to the door and gave it a light knock. As soon as the hallway was clear the guard would open it. Adolin only had to wait for a moment before the door swung open and Teft stepped inside. The other guard, Adolin thought it was Scar, remained in position.

“Does Bridge Four have any spare uniforms?”

“Yes, Sir, a few.”

“Good. Lend me your uniform coat.” To Teft`s credit he didn’t hesitate in the slightest before he handed over his jacket.

Putting on the jacket, Adolin went back into the bathroom to put on the storming wig, only shuddering slightly as it covered his hair. He trusted Kaladin to not deliberately give him some sort of disease.

Teft looked at him with wide eyes before collecting himself and giving the door a knock.

Within ten heartbeats Adolin was walking down the corridor, head slightly bowed in hopes that people wouldn’t take note of his features. He was grateful his father didn’t employ as many servants as some of the other Highprinces.

He fought the urge to scratch at his head. The wig felt weird and itchy. Adolin couldn’t wait to finally have it off again.

Adrenalin coursed through his body and his pounded heavily in his chest. If someone recognized him, it would be bad. The Kholin heir sneaking through the camp, disguised as a darkeyes while he was rumoured to be laying sick in bed. The news and its accompanying rumours would rush through camp like a Highstorm.

Thankfully, only the other guards from Bridge Four he passed seemed to take note of him. Likely, Kaladin had already told them everything about the situation.

Keeping to the darker parts of the road, Adolin kept a determined pace that indicated to anyone watching that he was on work duty or had some place to be.

When he finally arrived at the edge of the chasms a small thrill of excitement surged through him. While he didn’t much look forward to spending his time in the chasms, Adolin relished opportunities where he could test and expand the limits of his abilities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! <3  
> aka the chapter where the author tried to cover up some mistakes she made earlier by pretending it's all part of the plan and the characters are at fault  
> There is another chapter left in store for next week where there is finally going to be some sweaty thrusting action with Adolin's sword NOT A EUPHEMISM (though it might apply to later chapters)  
> Also, I'm thinking about editing the beginning of the fic bc it starts with Kaladin's pov but it bothers me that it's so short, I might just delete it or edit it to Adolin's pov, if you have any thoughts on it let me know!
> 
> btw I might have to skip the weekly updates or make the chapters shorter after that for a while because I have exams from the 3rd to the 16th  
> As always, please shout at me if you find any awful errors or are interested in beta-reading this fic!  
> See you next week~


	6. Chapter 6

The bottom of the chasm was dark, even with the lamp tied to his belt. Adolin hadn’t been down the chasms very often but enough times to know that even in broad daylight the chasms remained dark and uninviting. The air was stale and damp. Truly not a place where Adolin would’ve seen himself spending time out of his own volition two days ago.

He picked up the sphere-lamp that stood next to the ladder and almost threw it at Kaladin when the storming bridgeboy suddenly appeared in the circle of light. He hadn’t noticed Kaladin lurking around. Because any normal person would’ve just waited with the lamp in hand, instead of trying to give Adolin a heart attack.

“The new haircut suits you, princeling.” Kaladin seemed far too entertained by the way Adolin looked. He muttered a curse and pulled off the wig and stuffed in into his pocket.

“Looking at you, I’m surprised you even know what a haircut is, bridgeboy.” Adolin ran a hand through his hair, feeling better now that that cursed wig was finally off.

Kaladin plucked the lamp from Adolin’s hands and made his way deeper into the darkness. 

“You don’t seem angry about the clothes.”

“I’m too shocked to discover that you have a sense of humour after all to be angry, bridgeboy.”

“Then I hope you’ll be that forgiving when you find out there might have been bets as well.” Adolin was baffled and it took him three heartbeats until he could reply.

“I wasn’t expecting you to condone bets.”

“You’re right. But once in a while is alright. And better they bet amongst each other with my knowledge than gamble in some dark corner of the war camp.”

“How were the odds?”

“You really want to know?”

Adolin shrugged. “I’m curious how easy your men think I can be tricked.” At Kaladin’s troubled expression, Adolin was quick to add, “Not that I think they would trick me. Only you are that insubordinate, bridgeboy. But I’m curious what they think of me.”

“The majority bet that you’d realize and try to throttle me.”

Adolin snorted. “I really don’t need any more incentive to want to throttle you. You manage just fine without even trying.” Predictably, Kaladin scowled at him.

“Same to you, princeling.”

“And what did you bet?” Kaladin seemed surprised by Adolin’s question.

“I didn’t bet.” Adolin fought the urge to roll his eyes. Of course, the bridgeboy didn’t place a bet.

“Humour me.” Kaladin glanced at him dubiously, the light of the spheres casting shadows over his face which make him appear even more brooding than usual.

“I wasn’t sure. I thought you might just wear the other clothes, just so you could keep wearing the cap instead of the wig. You seemed positively appalled by the thing.”

Truth be told, Adolin had considered doing just that. But he wasn’t about to let the bridgeboy know that.

They rounded a corner and Kaladin stopped walking.

“We can practice here. Nobody except my men ever go this far in this direction.”

Adolin’s pulse quickened in anticipation, his blood sang with it. He placed his lamp next to the nearest wall, then turned back to where Kaladin stood.

The approaching fight, even if it was only for trainings purposes, wasn’t the only reason why Adolin’s heart quickened. He was excited to see the physical manifestation of Kaladin’s power again. Amidst the looming darkness of the chasm it would look even more stunning.

Kaladin breathed in and Adolin stopped breathing; mesmerized.

Streams of light drifted upward, toward Kaladin’s face, in a flash. And, where a heartbeat before there had only been dim light from a few spheres, there was now an intense blue glow that had Adolin squint his eyes at the sudden brightness.

The features of Kaladin’s face, which had been cast in shadows were now streaking stormlight, chasing the shadows away. He looked otherworldly. Like a being right out of the stories Adolin had enjoyed listening to as a kid. He glowed like a beacon in the night. Impossible to miss and luring you closer.

Adolin stepped closed without even realizing it.

It looked fascinating. The wisps of blue streaking and drifting through the blackness.

The expression on Kaladin’s face seemed softer, more relaxed and at ease.

Stretching out his hand, Adolin eagerly waited for ten heartbeats to pass. “I won’t be going easy on you, bridgeboy.”

Kaladin grinned and picked up the blunt spear that had been leaning against the wall. “Me neither, princeling.”

Mist shaped into a blade. The condensation on the metal glittered with the stormlight it reflected. Adolin fell into Smokestance and advanced towards Kaladin. Although his agility wasn’t as good without plate, he was still fast. He had trained as much wearing plate as without it.

Even if the Stormlight could heal Shardblade wounds and Adolin didn’t plan on cutting him, it was still admirable that Kaladin stared it down without a hint of fear.

The blade cut through the air where Kaladin had stood moments before. Moving inhumanely fast, Kaladin was now at Adolin’s left side. He barely managed to dodge the butt of the spear that was aimed at his side. The next one he managed to block with the side of his blade. But he wasn’t fast enough to counter the third strike that came from his right. Kaladin had moved in a circle around him and the wood of the spear connected with his torso. It left a dull and thudding ache. The bridgeboy hadn’t used a lot of strength.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t hold back.” Chagrined, Adolin moved into Vinestance. There had been no time before to change his stance. This stance was not necessarily more flexible than the Smokestance but focused more on defensive footwork. Fighting against Kaladin normally wouldn’t be possible. The last exchange had just proven that. He needed to focus on defending himself and waiting for chance to counter-attack.

“That was a stupid thing to say. If I use my full strength I might fracture something or break bones.” Adolin had to agree that that was the smart thing to do. He couldn’t risk getting injured during their trainings sessions and becoming unable to participate in the duel with Parodin.

But even if Kaladin held back as to not accidentally incapacitate Adolin, there was no reason to hold back that much. The area where the spear had hit him barely stung anymore. There was just a slight throbbing.

“I thought you would look forward to a chance to beat me up.”

“Well,” Kaladin raised a glowing brow, “as far as I can tell I seem to have just beaten you.”

“You know what I mean.”

 “Storms, Adolin, we might not be friends but I don’t want to _hurt_ you.” Kaladin actually seemed offended by that accusation and Adolin felt almost bad for putting a frown back onto his face. Adolin was a bit taken aback. He had expected the bridgeboy to show more dislike or hostility towards him. After all, they had never gotten along until now.

Feeling slightly flustered, Adolin realized that the hostility between them had been mostly his doing. He had disliked Kaladin because he hated having been saved by some random bridgeboy and had made sure to let Kaladin know. Paired with his suspicions that Kaladin was hiding something, their relationship had been tense at the best of times. The bridgeboy had just responded to him in fashion.

Adolin wondered what would’ve been if he hadn’t let his embarrassment over being saved by bridgemen influence his attitude towards Kaladin.

Kaladin tapped his shoulder, startling Adolin slightly. Stormlight trailed behind as Kaladin pulled his hand back. Just as Adolin was about to ask what was going on he realized the answer. He was stuck to the floor once again.

He cursed, trying to adapt his fighting stance. He adopted Stonestance, which didn’t rely on footwork when used as a defence, but instead on staying immobile and counted on raw power.

After barely countering two attacks, Adolin felt a spear resting against his throat, effectively forcing him to surrender. Kaladin had stepped behind him, into his blind spot. Since Adolin could only twist his upper body, his defeat was inevitable. Not that he stood much of a chance when he could move.

Storms, how was he ever going to stand a chance against the Assassin in White? Granted, he would be more agile in plate, but if he could be made immobile so easily what was the use of it?

He dismissed his blade and Kaladin lowered his spear.

“You should try your best to avoid me touching you.”

“What?” Kaladin brushed his hand over Adolin’s burrowed uniform and he found he could move his feet again.

“I can only lash you to something when I touch you.”

“Does it work the same when I wear my plate?”

“I think so. I didn’t have a chance to try it out so far.”

 

 

Several fights and aching bruises later, Adolin had to keep himself from throwing a rock at Kaladin’s pleased looking face. So far, he was sure he hadn’t lasted more than a minute each time. He could barely put pressure on Kaladin.

The glow around the bridgeboy had faded a little, but it was still enough to brighten a large circle around them.

It irked Adolin that Kaladin seemed barely winded. Now that he paid attention, he saw that Kaladin was barely breathing at all. Noticing his scrutiny, Kaladin raised a brow in question.

“You need less air with Stormlight?”

Kaladin nodded. “I can hold my breath far longer and it also keeps the stormlight from escaping as fast.” He pointed at the puff of stormlight that drifted up from his mouth as he spoke.

“Show me what the assassin did when he attacked us. Sticking me to the ceiling.”

Stepping closer, Kaladin lifted a hand and touched his shoulder. Adolin tensed in anticipation, but no pull in another direction came.

“He switched the directions of up and down for you.” Seeming to consider something, he pulled his hand back and suddenly flew through the air, doing a half-spin and landing on the wall of the chasm with a thud.

Adolin stepped closer to where Kaladin was, fascinated with what he saw. Kaladin was standing on the damp wall, looking at Adolin from around eight feet off the ground.

“This is so bizarre,” Adolin muttered, tilting his head to get a better look at the bridgeboy’s feet. Perhaps even more bizarre than seeing Kaladin stand on the wall was the fact that his black hair didn’t fall in Adolin’s direction like it should. Up and down had truly been changed for Kaladin, he wasn’t simply stuck on the wall

“You want to try?”

At Adolin’s wary look, Kaladin flat-out grinned and stretched out his hand.

“You don’t have to let me throw you at a wall straight away. Landing like I did takes some practice.”

Hesitating briefly, Adolin decided that walking onto the wall was better than flying full speed at it like Kaladin had done.

He placed his hand in Kaladin’s equally calloused one and had barely time to place one foot onto the wall before the ground was yanked form under his feet and his body tilted towards the wall. He stumbled forward, nearly crashing into Kaladin. The bridgeboy slipped his hand free and grabbed Adolin’s shoulders, steadying him. Reflexively, Adolin took hold of the nearest thing, which happened to be the front of Kaladin’s uniform.

Although Adolin had unmoving stone beneath his feet, he felt slightly wobbly, like the last time he had stood on a boat. His body was sure that any moment now he would crash onto the hard and unforgiving ground.

Realizing he still had a firm hold of Kaladin’s uniform, he slowly unclenched his fingers, feeling embarrassed for clinging to the man like some lighteyed lady at the sight of a chasmfiend.

Not commenting on Adolin’s reaction, Kaladin began striding farther up the chasm wall. After he finally managed to lift a slightly shaky foot, Adolin began to follow.

“This is so bizarre,” Adolin repeated his earlier words, because his brain didn’t seem able to produce more thoughts than that at the moment.

“You get used to it.”

They continued on for a while longer, until the circle of light surrounding Kaladin was no longer enough to illuminate the ground. An involuntary shudder ran through Adolin. He remembered suddenly falling from the ceiling in the King`s palace.

“Do you plan on walking out of the chasms like that?”

“We could, but the guards we passed on the way into the chasm are not my men, they’d wonder what happened to us.”  Kaladin briefly placed a hand on his shoulder again.

“Are you lashing me to the wall?”

“No, I’m just infusing you with more stormlight, I don’t want you to suddenly fall because you ran out of it. If I lashed you to the wall again you would become heavier.”

“Calling me heavy? That’s not a nice thing to say, bridgeboy.”

Kaladin snorted. “I didn’t know your feelings were that fragile, princeling.”

Adolin put on a mock hurt expression and placed a hand on his chest. “I usually only get compliments; my feelings are defenceless against slights like that.”

“I bet you do,” Kaladin muttered and Adolin blinked in bafflement, not sure he had heard correctly.

“So…if you can make me heavier, can you also make me lighter?” When Adolin saw the gleam in Kaladin’s eye, he almost regretted asking.

“I sure can.” Kaladin grinned and tapped Adolin again and he suddenly felt his feet leaving the ground.

Eyes widening in shock, he frantically grabbed at Kaladin’s uniform. There was no pull and Adolin realized that Kaladin was no longer standing on the wall either. When there was no sudden rush of air, Adolin forced himself to look about. The texture of the wall Kaladin illuminated was not whooshing by but instead slowly passing them. They were slowly floating downward, towards the bottom of the chasm.

That didn’t help calm Adolin’s nerves though. There was something distinctly alarming about not having anything beneath his feet and darkness all around except for the ray of light Kaladin created.

He was tempted to let go of Kaladin’s uniform so he could punch him. He was certain the storming man enjoyed toying with Adolin like this.

Adrenalin pumped through his veins and he felt unsettled. He trusted Kaladin not to not to let him smash into the ground and get injured but that didn’t mean it didn’t cause him to mildly panic.

As they slowly descended, Adolin finally forced his fingers to release their grip, balling them into fists to hide their slight shakiness.

“Do that again and I’ll feed you to a chasmfiend.”

“You asked for it.” Kaladin’s tone was light, still amused and he was clearly not taking Adolin’s threat seriously. “That was a bit more than a half lashing towards the ground of the chasm, so we’re almost weightless now.”

When his feet finally touched the stony and damp ground of the chasm again Adolin let out a relieved sigh. That had _not_ been the most enjoyable experience of his life. Yet he would not deny that it had been fascinating. Like the first time wearing plate just without the feeling of control.

However, his body still felt slightly weird, like it wasn’t properly rooted to the ground. That was probably the near weightlessness because of the lashing Kaladin had done.

Frowning, Adolin walked a few steps before bending his knees slightly and jumping.

A surprised exclamation escaped him as he shot upward into the darkness. The blackness was chased away by Kaladin’s glowing form as he appeared next to Adolin.

“It’s fun, isn’t it?”

“That isn’t the word I would use.”

“Bizarre?”

“That’s the one.” Although he said that, now that the first fright of sailing through the air was gone, Adolin could feel a thrill of excitement coursing through his body.

Jumping he could control.

Growing bolder, he jumped at the wall and used it as leverage to do a long and slowly arching backflip. Kaladin stayed close, making sure the stormlight wouldn’t suddenly run out.

The bridgeboy looked as close to happy and content as Adolin had ever seen him.

He didn’t mean to pay so close attention to the bridgeboy. But Kaladin was the only thing to look at in the vast darkness of the chasm aside from the bleak stone his body illuminated.

He felt like a moth drawn to a flame.

Jumping around like this reminded him of his childhood. When he hadn’t yet carried a Shardblade and hadn’t yet felt the weight of responsibility. It felt liberating to literally be free of weight like that. But at the same time, he felt a fool for finding joy in it.

Letting his eyes flicker back to Kaladin’s face he felt relieved when he didn’t see a mocking smile but instead a relaxed expression.

After a few more manoeuvres that would be possible with plate, although in a less graceful way, Adolin had to stop because even if Kaladin didn’t mock him, Adolin still felt embarrassed running around like that while Kaladin had to make sure Adolin didn’t fall to his death.

“Confident enough to let me throw you against a wall?”

“Ask me again tomorrow.”

“Too bad, I was looking forward to that.”

“I bet you were.” It was pleasant to talk with the bridgeboy like that; without suspicion clouding his mind.

 

They sparred until the rest of Kaladin’s stormlight ran out before they made their way back to the ladder that led out of the chasm. Now that Kaladin was no longer glowing and the only light left came from the lamps they carried, the night seemed ready to pounce on them.

As they neared the exit, Adolin remembered the storming wig and stopped to pull it out of his pocket. It was unlikely that they’d walk into anyone else until they were nearer the war-camp, but better to be on the safe side.

Tying the lamp to his belt, Adolin put the wig on, trying to stuff all of his blond and black hair underneath it.

“Let me.” Kaladin pushed the lamp into Adolin’s hands and stepped closer into his personal space. Not quite towering over him but their height difference became more apparent. “Hold the lamp a bit higher.”

They were standing barely an ell apart and Adolin’s mouth grew dry as a hauntingly familiar odour, tangy and salty, filled his nostrils. He froze as Kaladin started to fuss with his hair and he had to supress a shiver when a calloused hand brushed over his neck, just below the hairline.

He bend his head slightly forward to make it easier for Kaladin to conceal any lose strands of hair but mostly to hide his burning face.

_What in Kelek’s name was wrong with him?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! <3  
> I had a lot of fun writing this one because I love the idea of Kaladin just having a bit of fun for once and fooling around. Though I am a bit unhappy that I don't have the patience to drag out their slowly developing relationship. I can't help it, I'm a very impatient person who watches let's plays instead of actually playing computer games for partly the same reason¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Let's see how long I'll hold out until I shove their hands down each other's pants
> 
> Not sure if I'll manage to finish chapter 7 for next week bc of exams but I'll try to!
> 
> Syl: I think Adolin likes you  
> Kaladin: No, that can't be, at least not in the way you mean  
> Syl: Why not?  
> Kaladin: Adolin has to be straight because he's going to be the ruler of the Kholin princedom one day


	7. Chapter 7

“You’re in an unusually good mood today.” Syl zipped around his head in that carefree manner of hers.

“No, I’m not.”

They were on their way back to the barracks of Bridge Four after the trainings session with the princeling.

“Yes, you are,” Syl stopped flitting about, hovering in the air before him, hands on hips. She always managed to appear bigger than she was when she did that. “Don’t try to lie to me, Kaladin.” She pointed a finger at him accusatorily.

Kaladin sighed. Syl and his mother would get along splendidly.

“I’m not lying, Syl. I’m always in a better mood when I get to exercise with Stormlight. There is nothing unusual about it.”

Syl deflated a little, seeming disappointed. “I suppose that is true.” She abandoned her slightly threatening stance and did a slow circle around him. “But you’re still in a better mood than usual.”

“Perhaps,” Kaladin grunted, “I like training with Stormlight and I haven’t been able to use it against a Shardblade without needing to hide it. It feels good, not having to hide it.”

A pair of guards saluted him from a distance and he gave a brief nod in return. It still felt weird, being greeted by lighteyed soldiers because he outranked them or because they respected him for what he had done for the Kholin house.

“You had fun, training with Adolin.”

Kaladin scowled. “It wasn’t because of him.”

“Kaladin!” Syl sounded exasperated. “Can’t you just admit that you were having fun? You didn’t play around like that with Rock or Lopen.”

Sometimes he wished Syl was some sort of broody spren that didn’t stick her nose into everything. Especially not things he didn’t want to examine too closely. But he couldn’t deny that she was right. It was true that he hadn’t fooled around like that with the others. In his defence, neither Rock not Lopen had been down in the chasms with him since he could control his powers better.

Training with Adolin _had_ been fun. Surprisingly so. The princeling hadn’t been insufferable at all. It was odd to converse with Adolin without wanting to smack him.

It was a pleasant oddness. And Kaladin had been caught completely off-guard by it.

The princeling had always been so hostile towards him, and Kaladin had responded in kind. It felt a bit weird not disliking the princeling as much anymore. If Adolin had been suspicious of him all this time because there had been something off about him, Kaladin couldn’t fault the princeling too much. Suspicion and caution was what kept you alive.

Though that didn’t mean Kaladin could just forgive the way Adolin had treated him.

“Yes, training with him was fun,” Kaladin finally admitted to Syl who looked pleased with his answer.

“I knew it.”

“Knew what?” Kaladin lower his voice as he was striding through the mostly deserted streets of the camp. The occasional group of drunk men could be heard loud and clear in the quiet.

“That Adolin is a good person.”

“I never said he wasn’t. Just spoiled and insufferable.” Those attributes weren’t mutually exclusive. You could be a good person and insufferable.

“The two of you are a bit alike. You should trust him more.”

“No, Syl,” He glanced at her, willing her to understand. “I trusted Amaram. I trusted Dalinar. I won’t just trust another lighteyes.”

“But he didn’t tell Dalinar.”

He shook his head. “Not because he respected my wishes. Only because he wants my help.” Kaladin knew Adolin was a good man. The soldiers respected him and Adolin treated them well. Bridge Four liked him. He remembered Adolin helping the girl in Sadeas’ camp. The princeling had honour. But just because he had honour didn’t mean Kaladin could trust him. Dalinar was a good man and had honour – but that hadn’t stopped him from dismissing what Kaladin had told him without a second thought.

He couldn’t shoulder another crushed hope.

Syl fell silent until they could see the glow of the fireplace outside Bridge Four’s barracks.

“You know, Kaladin, I want to see you smile more, even if you can’t trust Adolin with everything, it was nice to see you smile.”

“I know,” Kaladin muttered as Syl zipped over to where Rock was sitting with the others that weren’t on duty.

“Kaladin!” Rock greeted in his loud voice when he saw Kaladin approach. The other’s looked up, eager faces turned towards him. “Tell! Who won the bet?”

“He took Teft’s uniform jacket.”

Rock bellowed a laugh. He had bet the princeling would not walk through camp wearing the second-hand outfit one of Lopen’s cousins had acquired somewhere.

There was an unhappy murmuring from some of the others that had wagered on the wrong outcome. Kaladin sat down in an empty spot, stretching his legs.

“And? Come on, Kaladin! Tell us something! How was it?”

“Not much to tell. He’s just getting familiar with what to expect from someone using Stormlight. It’ll take a bit before we can train properly. Though without plate he’s at a disadvantage.” Syl puffed her cheeks as he spoke, not pleased that he had made it sound so dry. Storms, she couldn’t expect him to tell his men it had been fun. After Moash, Rock, Teft and Lopen had tried so often to get him to go drinking with them and have a good time. Kelek knew how they’d tease him with that. Not to mention after him often and loudly declaring how very insufferable he found the princeling.

“No throttling for playing with him for bet?” Rock seemed a bit disappointed when Kaladin denied any throttling.

The warmth of the fire and the voices of his men lulled him into a relaxed state and he nearly dozed off to the sound of Rock’s booming laugh, before getting up and heading into his room.

 

 

Loud voices startled Kaladin. He sat up and listened. The voices were growing in volume. Coming closer.

There was screaming.

Kaladin sat up in alarm. He knew that voice. It belonged to Syl.

He was out of the bed and by the door in two heartbeats, speer in hand. He ran out. His legs felt sluggish. Not carrying him fast enough.

He tried to suck in Stormlight but no surge of strength came. Instead a surge of panic rushed through him. He hurried onward, not slowing down when a group of people came into view. Pushing his way through the crowd, Kaladin felt sick when he saw a lighteyed man holding Syl in an unforgiving grip.

People seemed to finally notice him as Kaladin shouted for the man to let Syl go. He tried to get to her but the crowd around him would not let him get any further.

His spear was gone. As was his Stormlight.

The feeling of utter helplessness crushed into him like the wall of a Highstorm.

Hands were everywhere, stopping his movement and restraining him. Keeping him away from Syl.

Syl turned towards him. Tears were streaming down her face a he called out to him.

He knew they would find a way to take her away from him. The lighteyes always managed to take important people away from him.

The breath was knocked out of him as his body hit the ground hard. He felt lightheaded and dazed and some part of him wondered if his head had landed on a rock, but there was no pain. There was not much of anything except for the cold fear and panic overwhelming him.

He tried to stand back up but a heavy weight was pushing down on top of him and he was left to lye there.

Powerless.

Useless.

His throat hurt from shouting. And still he could do nothing but watch as Syl was carried away. Away from him.

Leaving him once again to realize that everybody he tried to save or cared about was inevitably taken away from him.

The lighteyes taking Syl grew smaller and smaller as Kaladin felt himself, both body and soul growing weaker, until they disappeared down the road.

He felt numb.

The weight pressing down on his body disappeared but Kaladin couldn’t move. It was as if his body was no longer his.

He felt insubstantial.

Broken.

 

 

Kaladin woke up shaking and gasping for breath, the broken syllable of Syl a bitter taste in the back of his throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long way guys! RL kept annoying me the past few weeks but the worst is over ow and I'll try to get back to my previous routine of updating once a week.  
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed this Kaladin POV interlude! Not sure yet if I'll try to write more of these.


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